


Aside

by tyanite



Series: Girls Just Want to Have an Apocalypse 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3312092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyanite/pseuds/tyanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of asides, choose-your-own-canon and general eclectic short drabbles for <a>Girls Just Want to Have an Apocalypse</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wherein the Author Replaces the Personality of a Villain in Supernatural with the Collective Personality of All of the Divas on Project Runway

**Author's Note:**

> So if you've been reading my long fic, Girls Just Want to Have an Apocalypse, you probably know that only about 30% of it should be taken seriously, and the rest is silly. Believe it or not, bits that are more silly than what is actually in the fic.
> 
> These are the drabbles and ficlets that I wrote alongside Girls Just Want to Have an Apocalypse that may or may not be canon in the fic. 
> 
> It depends on what _you_ want to accept as canon, dear reader!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only a baby mullet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Continuation from this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3094097/chapters/7235888)

“Well,” Bartholomew said, clearing his throat once Michael had looked away. “I suppose we have some work to do, then.”

Michael nodded, setting aside the glass. He was already working on strategy—With angels scattered all over the globe, it would be difficult to organize them all together, however Bartholomew certainly seemed to have his followers organized in an effective manner, so perhaps it could be done. Of course, then there was the issue of taking Heaven, which Michael had spent much of his rule fortifying and—

“But first,” Bartholomew said suddenly, interrupting Michael’s train of thought, “we need to have a talk about your wardrobe.”

“My…” Michael stared at him, thrown. “What?”

“Michael, no disrespect intended but you are most definitely _not_ rocking that mullet on your vessel and besides, it is so ’80’s faux pas. Not to mention, your clothes look like they were dragged from here to Hell and back again. Which, I guess if you think about it, they were.” Bartholomew said, looking Michael over and quirking an eyebrow at him.

Michael frowned slightly. “I don’t understand…”

“To put it frankly, you look terrible.” Bartholomew said flatly. “We need to fix that.”

“What does my vessel’s appearance have to do with anything, Bartholomew?”

“It’s about _presentation_ , Michael.” He gestured to himself like what his vessel wore was of significant importance. “Angels have changed since you were in command of the Host. Castiel truly changed how Angels see their leaders—they want them to be good looking, charismatic. Strong, but appealing. Do you think I could have gained as many followers as I did looking any other way?”

Michael continued to look confused and it was apparent he was not following. But that did not stop Bartholomew.

“I do not understand at all how Malachi has managed to gain his followers, but clearly they prefer slop to the superior—No, no. I will not get into that. Now that you are here, we can finally crush those rebels. But first we have to work on your PR. At least we can get rid of that mullet.” Bartholomew stood up and hit a button on the desk, speaking into a set piece. “Barrattiel, get my stylist and send him up here, immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Okay, it's really not all that much of a baby mullet either....](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130819054226/supernatural/images/5/5f/Adam-adam-milligan-14120389-500-290_large.jpg)
> 
> But Adam is totally described (in the wiki, shh) with short hair in the front, longer hair in the back and I literally pictured full Mullet. I imagine things got a little longer during the cage?


	2. Wherein Crowley gets a perspective chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has things to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Crowley's Point of View on the mess that was this chapter.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3094097/chapters/8016432)

Crowley was going to die. He was certain of it. The moment he stepped outside of the car and felt the warding fall away like a lead blanket, he had picked the lock on the handcuffs and had tried to escape.

_Tried_ being the key word here, since Crowley was stuck and there was an Angel keeping him there.

“Fuck.” Crowley swore under his breath. He could practically smell the Devil from out here, grace crackling unseen in the air and hitting every instinct in his body to run and hide but he couldn’t. Damned Angels.

In front of him, Castiel was kissing Dean.

The angels at either side of him looked different degrees of patronizingly endearing and horrified. He tried to sneak away, but the moment he tried to take a step back, the tall one grabbed ahold of Crowley’s arm.

“Fuck!” Crowley repeated, louder this time.

But then Dean was chasing after Cas, leaving the three non-humans behind, so Crowley couldn’t exactly complain.

Crowley was more than glad for Castiel’s little kissing trick. He was glad because it was about fucking time. He was glad because it distracted his angelic guards and he was very glad because it meant that Dean wasn’t thinking about dragging him into the fray. Sure, he couldn’t escape, as much as he wants to. But it’s a hell of a lot better than waiting around for the undoubtedly very pissed off satan to smite him.

“Should we go in after them?” One of the angels asked, tentatively.

“I…I am not sure.” The other one said.

“Best not to.” Crowley said, for whatever his two cents were worth.

The second one nodded, although he did not look very happy with taking Crowley’s advice. Crowley was quickly coming to understand that _this one_ had morals, and apparently taking the advice of the King of Hell was _no bueno_.

Crowley knitted his fingers together and looked at the weathered church, trying to calculate the odds. No matter how he added them up, they did not weigh in his favor.

Now, Crowley always liked to believe that he was the sanest of his villainous cohorts and certainly the one with his wits best about him. He wasn’t stupid enough to gamble with his own destruction, and he was one of the only people on the whole bloody earth who apparently didn’t underestimate the Winchesters.  

He at least liked to think he was smarter than the angels flanking him, since one of them had been carrying a (albeit, pink) hair pin in his pocket and the other one (the liar) had barely looked at Crowley the entire ride.

Crowley also knew, even as he had picked the lock on the handcuffs, that his best way to get out and survive was to have the Winchesters and Castiel in tow. But even that came with it’s own set of risks, since at least the older two seemed hellbent on getting themselves and everyone in their general vicinity killed.

Which reminds him…

“Is anybody warding us against Demons, by chance?” Crowley asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the three supernatural beings.

“Why would we need to be warded against Demons?” Moose Jr said, turning to frown at Crowley. “Lucifer is an—“

“Angel, yes, yes. I know that.” Crowley interrupted. “But Abaddon isn’t.”

“What does that have anything to do with—“ Captain Morality started and then stopped, paling. “Oh.”

“What?” Moose Jr frowned, clearly not the brains of the operation. Then, his expression went from confused to very constipated as the realization dawned over him.

“Yes, so, you might want to—“ Crowley started but it was cut off by the slight trembling of the earth. Then the church doors swung open.


End file.
